


Our First Kiss (was a miss)

by Officer_Jennie



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [6]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Kiss, M/M, light humor, say no to toe socks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-17 00:21:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16964238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Officer_Jennie/pseuds/Officer_Jennie
Summary: Hashirama's been trying for years to convince Madara he's serious, and finally gets that date.





	Our First Kiss (was a miss)

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at this lovely couple!
> 
> Prompt from tumblr user fucksafemodebullshit (honestly, relate so hard)  
> “First kiss gone wrong all because of a pair of odd socks”

Considering how often things went wrong for him, Hashirama was almost thankful he’d had nearly two decades to plan this date (though he wasn’t sure why everyone, including his forever-crush and best friend Madara, were so convinced he was straight).

He’d booked a restaurant for two on the anniversary of them becoming friends (as he had for the last seven years, just in case), one of those fancy places that had violins playing in the background and all the customers had to look ‘put-together’; Touka had taken his suit in to be dry-cleaned, and even held onto it until the day of (since it was sure to be destroyed if left in his possession for more than five minutes); he borrowed one of Tobirama’s ties, since all of his apparently had too many flowers and colors to be considered ‘appropriate’; he even had Itama drop him off at the restaurant, just in case he had another incident with a certain lake that liked to swallow his cars whole (and never spit them back out either. Rude).

Madara had beat him to the restaurant, and had looked stunning - it was rare to see him out of a suit, but the one he’d worn to their date had been just that extra bit more, well,  _him_. Red tie, suit jacket trimmed in red, red wine in hand; Madara could cause him to swoon on a normal day, in any color, but red had always looked best on him.

It was easy to tell Madara was trying, too. Not just because of how beautiful he was (hair brushed back into a low ponytail, pressed red-black suit, nails actually trimmed and uniform instead of left at random lengths, smart glasses perched on the tip of his nose) but how unusually  _soft_  he was being. His snark had less bite, rolled eyes followed by endeared chuckles. And he’d only called Hashirama an idiot twice! Well, he’d also called him a moron. And had thrown in an imbecile once or twice - but still!

Hashirama was still buzzing with giddy energy when they left the restaurant, clutching onto his date’s arm and beaming like the love-struck man he was. Letting Madara drive them home hadn’t been the best option - he might have only had two glasses of wine, but any alcohol was still alcohol - but it hadn’t even crossed Hashirama’s mind at the moment, all of his brain power focused in on how well Madara’s fingers fit in his own.

Being invited inside of his friend’s (possibly boyfriend’s, now) house had been a pleasant surprise, seeing as Madara usually shooed him away after spending more than an hour in his presence. Though the odd look and the sharp “I’m not inviting you in for  _funny business”_ had been more confusing.

Hashirama cocked his head, still standing just outside the doorway as Madara blocked his way in. “What funny business?”

“Good.” He turned and went inside, kicking his shoes off and leaving a confused but still bubbly Hashirama to follow suit.

Cuddling on the sofa was certainly a new perk, though doing it in such stiff clothing wasn’t the best option in Hashirama’s mind. Still, he flopped himself into the corner, back against the arm rest, and tugged Madara right into his chest. The red tie had been tossed aside, a few buttons loosened to give breathing room, and Hashirama could see the top of the bush that covered his date’s chest. He said nothing of it, knowing how sensitive Madara could get about his body fuzz, only hid a smile in his wild mane instead.

Some movie or show dronned on low in the background, white noise and not at all interesting when compared to the man in his arms. The man who sighed as he nuzzled into him, let him run his hand through thick black hair.

He was beautiful. His hair, eyes, body fuzz. The way he scowled at the slightest inconvenience, the unapologetic laughter when someone else dealt with the same. How he secretly fretted and worried himself into a state over his little brothers, or his not-so-secret hatred for the cold.

Madara was beautiful, in every sense of the word, and Hashirama had fallen hard.

Squirming around to get more comfortable, Hashirama threw a leg over Madara’s lap, settling right back to nudging the man with his nose. He kissed the top of his head, the side. Nuzzled his cheek, and brushed it ever so lightly with his lips. He saw Madara’s eyes flutter, the slight parting of his own lips, and felt his heart pick up in his chest.

How many times had he thought of kissing him? How many dreams had been made sweeter by the taste of his mouth, the feeling of their breath mixing together?

Hashirama closed his eyes, tilting Madara’s face up with a finger on his chin. Leaned forward, felt hot breath tingling on his lips, brushing feather-light and-

“What are you wearing?”

Madara had stilled in his arms. Hashirama drew back, giving him a puzzled look.

“What I’ve been wearing all evening?”

“No, you idiot, what are  _those_?”

Madara’s hand, which had previously been resting on Hashirama’s thigh, waved down at his foot.

“Oh, these were a gift from Kawa!” He wriggled his toes, ever so happy about his socks. The rainbow colors went wonderful with everything, in his opinion, and they went almost all the way up to his knee. Perfect for chilly weather.

“They’re  _toe_   _socks_!  _They_   _have_   ** _toes_**!”

“Yup! It’s like a blanket burrito for each toe!”

Hashirama suddenly found his leg shoved off the sofa, and his date on the other side of the room.

“Nope. I’m done.”

“B-wha?  _Madarraa_!”

“I’m taking a shower, then going to bed.” Madara sent a rather disgusted look towards the apparently offensive socks, and Hashirama swore he saw the barest hint of anxiety in those obsidian-black eyes. “If you must, you can stay in the guest room.”

After that, Hashirama was left to pout alone in the living room, stretching his toes and not in the least bit certain what had just happened.

Just his luck, really. Something  _always_  had to go wrong when he was involved.

**Author's Note:**

> What's that? I'm projecting my own irrational fear of toe socks onto Madara? Pffftt, yeah, _suuuuurrrreeee_.
> 
> ...
> 
>  _They're just **wrong** okay?_  
> *shudders*


End file.
